{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_7783/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_7783","id":"gutenberg_7783","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7783","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore","Indians of North America -- Folklore","Iroquois Indians -- Folklore","Native America"],"text":"Produced by Bill Boerst, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks,\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBIRCH BARK LEGENDS OF NIAGARA\n\nFOUNDED ON TRADITIONS AMONG THE IROQUOIS, OR SIX NATIONS\n\nA STORY OF THE LUNAR-BOW;\n(Which Brilliantly Adorns Niagara Falls by Moonlight),\n\nOR,\n\nORIGIN OF THE TOTEM OF THE WOLF\n\nDEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF JOINSTAGA, FROM WHOM MANY LEGENDS OF THE\nALMOST FORGOTTEN PAST WERE OBTAINED BY THE AUTHOR OWAHYAH\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nMy preface will be a few citations from reliable authorities to\nintroduce to my readers the people of whom I write:\n\nGOV. CLINTON, in a discourse delivered before the New York Historical\nSociety, says: \"Previous to the occupation of this country by the\nprogenitors of the present race of Indians, it was inhabited by a race\nof men much more populous and much farther advanced in civilization;\nthat the confederacy of the Iroquois is a remarkable and peculiar piece\nof legislation; that the more we study the Indian history the more we\nwill be impressed with the injustice done them. While writers have\ntruthfully described their deeds of cruelties, why not also quote their\ndeeds of kindness, their integrity, hospitality, love of truth, and,\nabove all, unbroken fidelity?\"\n\nWASHINGTON IRVING says: \"The current opinion of Indian character is too\napt to be formed from the degenerate beings, corrupted and enfeebled by\nthe vice of society, without being benefitted by its civilization. That\nthere are those, and a large class of them that have with moral firmness\nresisted the temptations, with which they have been surrounded, and\ncommand our highest esteem.\"\n\nVOLNEY, the French Historian, pronounces the Iroquois \"The Romans of the\nWest.\"\n\nW. H. C. HOSMER, \"The Warriors of Genesee.\"\n\nORSEMUS TURNER, in his History of the Holland Purchase, says. \"The\nexistence of the IROQUOIS upon the soil now constituting Western and\nMiddle New York, is distinctly traced back to the Period of the\ndiscovery of America.\n\n\"Their traditions go beyond that period. They fix upon no definite\nperiod in reference to the origin of their confederacy. Their Councils\nwere held along the southern shores of Lake Ontario, and upon the\nNiagara River, before the first adventurers, the Dutch, and French\nJesuits appeared in the valley of the Mohawk; and there are evidences of\na long precedent existence that corresponds with their traditions.\"\n\nAnd their Council Fires are still kindled though they burn not as\nbrightly as of yore. Nor do the young braves listen to the wisdom, or\never now in their Councils witness the allegorical or figurative\nlanguage so beautifully illustrating the discourses of Red Jacket, Corn\nPlanter, Farmers Brother and other Chiefs, thus eulogized by PRES.\nDWIGHT: \"In strength and sublimity of their eloquence they may be fairly\ncompared with the Greeks.\"\n\nThe INDIANS say: \"We listen to your stories, why do you not listen to\nours? Although civilized, you use not the rules of common civility.\"\n\nOWAHYAH\n\n\n\n\nBIRCH BARK LEGENDS OF NIAGARA\n\nFOUNDED ON TRADITIONS AMONG THE IROQUOIS OR SIX NATIONS\n\nWithin sound of the thundering cataract's roar once worshipped the\nroaming sons of the forest in all their primitive freedom. They\nrecognized in its thunder the voice, in its mad waves the wrath, and in\nits crashing whirlpool the Omnipotence of the Great Spirit--the Manitou\nof their simple creed.\n\nAlso in the rising mist, the flight of the soul, and in the beautiful\nbow--the brilliant path followed by the spirits of good Indians to their\nHappy Hunting Ground.\n\nWith this belief came the custom of yearly offering a sacrifice to the\nGreat Spirit, or whenever any particular blessing was to be\nacknowledged, or for some wrong perpetrated, to propitiate the righteous\nanger of their Deity of the roaring waters.\n\nThe sacrifice, or offering, consisted of a boat filled with fruit,\nflowers and any precious gift, which was to be paddled over the foaming\ncataract by one either drawn by lot or selected by the chiefs; or, as\noften happened, a voluntary offering of life, as it manifested heroism\nbeyond their usual test of torture. Martyrs thus sacrificed had this\nconsolation: that their spirits were sure to rise in the mist and follow\nthe bright path above, while bad Indians' spirits passed down in the\nboiling, crashing current, to be torn and tossed in the whirlpool, there\nto linger in misery forever.\n\nWith all thy present loveliness--smooth paths cut round thy rocky\nbanks, covered with trailing vines and bright, soft mosses, nature's\nbeautiful tapestry; flights of steps, half hidden with gay foliage,\ndisplaying at almost every turn majestic scenery; bridges thrown over\nthe bounding, foaming rapids, from island to island, opening bower\nafter bower with surprises of beauty at every step. Scattered here and\nthere the nut-brown Indian maids and mothers; among the last of the\nrace--still lingering around their fathers' places and working at the\ngay embroidery--soon to pass away forever.\n\nYes, with all thy loveliness, the circle of mirth and gaiety, reflecting\nhappy faces of thy present worshippers, tame is the scene compared with\nthe traditions of a by-gone race, which, notwithstanding the simplicity\nin forms of customs that governed them, were among the brightest\npictures of American life--always associated with the beautiful forest,\nwhich together are passing away, and oblivion's veil fast gathering\naround them.\n\nThy rocks, now echoing the gay laugh of idlers, first rang with the wild\nwar-whoop, or sent back the Indian's low, mellow songs of peace, or\nmingled with the heavy roar of thy failing waters the mournful dirge of\nthe doomed one, to the Great Manitou.\n\n\n\n\nSTORY OF THE LUNAR BOW,\n(_Which brilliantly adorns Niagara Falls by moonlight_),\n\nOR\n\nOrigin of the Totem [Footnote: The coat of arms of a clan.] of the Wolf.\n\n\nFIRST LEGEND.\n\nThe tradition of the Lunar Bow, the Manitou's bright path, or the origin\nof the totem of the wolf, was traced with a scene long remembered at\ntheir councils, passing from generation to generation, and still sung by\nthe Indian mothers in their far-off home towards the setting sun--the\nlast foot-hold of the dark sons of the forest on this their native land.\nOn the east side of the Falls of Niagara, before the hallowed waters of\nthe mist fell, on the pale-faced warrior or the sound of the axe had\neven broken the great stillness of their undisputed soil, the dark\nshadows of the primeval forest fell only on rock and wigwam.\n\nThe red-topped sumach and sweet sassafras grew thick on either side,\nwhile ledges of rocks here and there pierced the foliage of the\ncedar-crowned banks 'round which tumbled and roared the mad waves,\nleaping like frightened does in wild confusion to their final plunge.\nThe narrow Indian trails, winding around swamps, over hills, and through\nravines, were the only paths that led to this their Great Manitou.\n\nThe drowsy sultriness of an American summer pervaded this secluded spot,\nharmonizing with the unceasing roar of the Great Falls. Ever and anon,\ntall, dark forms might be seen suddenly appearing from the thick foliage\nof the underbrush, through which their paths with difficulty wound, and\nsilently their painted faces and gayly plumed heads dropped round the\nbig wigwam. Important questions waited the decision of their wisest\nSachems, and runners had been sent with wampum to call together distant\nChiefs, who, with braves and warriors, as became the dignity of the\nwampum, answered by their presence quickly and in silence.\n\nNear the brink of the Falls, beneath an aged pine, reclined a\nwell-guarded, sorrowful, but haughty band. Their fine symmetry, noble\nheight, and free carriage, were especially attractive. They were all\nyoung warriors, whose white paint presented emblems of peace: their\nplumes were from the beautiful white crane of the sunny forest, which\ndesignated the southern land from whence they came.\n\nA gleam of pride flashed across their dark faces, while their attitudes\nbespoke both defiance and despair. A tall, stately looking youth\nappeared to command from these few the deference due a Chief. He was\nleaning against the old tree, looking for the first time on the great\nsheet of falling waters, where soon himself and followers would probably\nend their tortures by a welcome leap. Their noble bearing had attracted\nthe eye of the Sachem's daughter, the Gentle Fawn; she, with a few young\nIndian girls, half hid among the whortleberry bushes growing luxuriantly\naround the smaller wigwams of the camp, were dividing their attention\nbetween the stately captives and weaving the gaudy wampums to be\nbestowed, with the shy little weavers themselves, upon such young braves\nas should be deemed worthy by the great council. Their stolen glances of\nadmiration and pity, however, were intercepted by the young brave who\nbrought home and so suspiciously guarded the prisoners. He was a fierce,\nwicked savage, with repulsive, glistening eyes, evincing a cunning,\nrevengeful disposition.\n\n[Illustration: GREAT OAK]\n\nAt the side of this savage hung a string of fresh scalps, and a gleam of\nexultation shot across his swarthy visage as he pointed to the gory\ntrophies at his belt, saying:\n\n\"The Black Snakes scalps are fresh from his enemies; the fingers of the\nGentle Fawn cannot number them.\"\n\n\"The Fawn does not like the smell of blood,\" quickly answered the\nsensitive maid. \"The Black Snake is a boy, and does not know his friends\nfrom his enemies.\"\n\n\"The Fawn has been taking lessons from the mocking-birds,\" replied Black\nSnake, \"and has learned many tunes; she sings now for the ears of the\nsunny Eagle, whose wings are too feeble to fly. His last flight will be\nshort (pointing to the cataract); he will not need his wings, and the\nGentle Fawn will soon learn to sing to Black Snake. The Fawn is an\ninfant, and Black Snake will feed her on birds' eggs.\" Approaching with\na noiseless step, he continued, in a lower tone: \"The Black Snake will\nbe a great warrior; he must build a lodge of his own whereon to hang his\nenemies' scalps (shaking them in her face), and the Gentle Fawn will\nlight his pipe.\"\n\nWith a suppressed cry the Fawn sprung to her feet. In an instant from\nthe long wild grass, at her side appeared a huge wolf, of unusual size\nand strength, which the powerful creature owed in a measure to the\naffectionate care of its mistress. She had found it when young, reared\nand fed it with her own hands, and they had become inseparable friends\nand protectors to each other.\n\nWith an angry growl and flashing eyes the wolf warned the Indian back.\nBlack Snake pointed his flint-headed spear with a look of disdain at the\nheart of the watchful beast. His arm was suddenly arrested by the hand\nof the Sachem, Great Oak.\n\n\"Does the Black Snake make war with the women? Wouldst kill my\ndaughter's four-footed friend? Has the young brave only arrow-heads for\nhis friends? He must go back to his mother's wigwam: let her teach him\nhow to use them.\"\n\nThe dark frown passed from the Great Oak's face as he addressed his\ndaughter. With a watchful tenderness seldom found in the breast of a\nwarrior, the stern old Sagamore's voice grew soft as a woman's.\n\n\"My daughter will follow her father; he knows not his wigwam when the\nFawn and her four-footed friend are not there.\"\n\nThus saying they immediately left the discomfited brave. In passing by\nthe stranger captives, a sigh escaped the old Indian as he saw the\nsympathetic looks that passed between them and his daughter, and\ncompared that noble young Chief, so soon to pass away, with the\ntreacherous warrior who aspired to fill the War Chief's place, and\nreceive his daughter with the title. The War Chief was slain on that\nsame expedition that conquered and brought home the prisoners. Another\nwas to be chosen and the captives disposed of, which was the business\nthat had called together Chiefs from distant places. Occupied with sad\nthoughts, that brought him no comfort, he was attracted by the low whine\nof the wolf, and upon turning discovered him fondling around the captive\nChief, who seemed equally pleased with him; at the same time he caught\nthe ill-omened look of Black Snake, distorting his face with rage,\njealousy and revenge, as it glowed from beneath his tawdry plume of many\ncolors. Hastening his daughter along, who was quickly followed by the\nwolf as she gave a peculiar call, they passed silently out of sight.\n\nAs the dark shadows of night; gathered closely around, made brilliant by\ninnumerable fire-flies, sportively decking all nature in spangles, women\nand children disappeared to their wigwams, while their dusky protectors\nseated themselves 'round the great fire, the red flashes of which fell\nbrightly on the strongly bound prisoners, proud and defiant, awaiting\ntheir doom.\n\nOnly one more night and the mild rays of the moon would fall on good and\nbad alike--would gaze on the beautiful, bright colored path over the\ndark and fearful abyss they were so soon to follow to the Happy Hunting\nGround. The breaking of the waves against the rocks on the shore, the\nmelancholy cry of the night bird, like soft music, partially subdued\ntheir tortured spirits, and each recalled with fond longing the memory\nof a distant home now lying in ashes, and the sound of some voice now\nsilent, whose tones would go with them to the Manitou's home.\n\nCalm night, our soothing mother, bringing rest to all, freed them at\nlast from the insulting taunts of their savage guards as their swarthy\nforms were swallowed up in the surrounding darkness.\n\nOh! how many heartfelt and anxious prayers have been sent, Niagara, to\nrise on thy light mist to realms above.\n\nThe Indian's simple supplication, so full of hope and faith, needed not\nthe assistance of other creeds to be heard by _his_ Great Manitou. And\nif thou dost pray sincerely for strength, Grey Eagle, unflinchingly to\nstand thy torture and joyfully to take thy final leap, it will be given\nthee.\n\nAs the dampness of night fled from before the rays of the morning sun it\nrevealed a cooler, calmer crowd around the big wigwam.\n\nIn sight of the great waters, and almost deafened by its thundering,\nwarning voice, Sachems, Chiefs and Warriors were quietly and orderly\nassembled. Directly in front were placed the securely bound prisoners,\nsurrounded by aspiring young braves, too willing to show their skill in\nthrowing arrows and tomahawks as near as possible to the captives'\nheads, delighting the dusky children, who with the women formed the\noutside circle.\n\nFor several minutes the pipe, with the sweet-scented kinny-kinick, was\npassed from one to another in silence. Not a word escaped them, the\nChiefs viewing with each other in betraying no symptom of idle curiosity\nor impatience. At length a Chief turned his eyes slowly towards the old\nSachem, and in a low voice, with great delicacy in excluding all\ninquisitiveness, addressed him:\n\n\"Our father sent us the wampum; we are here, when our father speaks his\nchildrens' ears are open,\"--again resuming the pipe with due and\nbecoming solemnity.\n\nAfter a moment's silence, during which the children even became mute,\nthe Sachem arose with dignity and commenced his brief story in a solemn,\nserious manner, becoming himself and the occasion.\n\n\"'Tis well; my childrens' ears shall drink no lies. Their brothers have\nbeen on the war-path. The Great Manitou smiled on the young brave; sent\nhim back with fresh trophies and prisoners; not one escaped. The Great\nManitou has also frowned on his people, hushed their song of triumph,\nsent them back to their tribe crying, 'where is the great War Chief, the\nnation's pride?' Do my sons see or hear the War Eagle in the wigwam of\nhis people? No; he came not back; the Manitou needed him; he has gone to\nthe Happy Hunting Ground; our eyes are dim; we shall see him no more.\nWho will lead the young braves on the war-path? Who will protect the\nwigwams, the women, children, and old men? Let my children speak, their\nfather will listen.\"\n\nWith the last words all excitement seemed to pass from him, and the face\nof Great Oak assumed that immovable expression which rendered it so\nimpossible to surmise what really were his thoughts or wishes. The\nmurmuring wails of the women in remembrance of War-Eagle and the\nthreatening tomahawks that were shaken at the prisoners, all ceased as\nslowly the first Chief again rose to speak.\n\n\"Let our brother, the young brave who followed where War Eagle led, and\nreturned with prisoners and trophies to appease his mourning people--let\nthe Black Snake speak, that we may know how to counsel our father.\"\n\n[Illustration: BLACK SNAKE.]\n\nThe eyes of the young warrior thus alluded to flashed with fierce\ndelight--his nostrils dilated with strong emotion. Passing with a\nhaughty stride in front of the Chiefs, displaying to all the bloody\ntrophies at his side, without dignity or feeling, but in an excited,\nvindictive manner, he gave an exaggerated account of the foe and the\nbattle; spoke of the loss of the War Eagle; called on the young braves\nto help revenge his death, swinging his tomahawk around the heads of the\nprisoners, counting the scalps he had torn from the heads of their\npeople, forcing them in their faces with malignant pleasure, and calling\nthem women, who would cry when their tortures commenced. He said he only\nwaited to attend the joyful dance before going on the war-path to avenge\nmore fully the death of their Chief and earn the right to have a wigwam.\nHe howled his fierce demands for an opportunity to show his willingness\nto execute the sentence the Chiefs should pass upon the prisoners. Then,\nadroitly pleading his youth, he said he would not ask to lead the braves\non the war-path--he would follow where some braver one would lead.\nThrowing the string of scalps among the crowd, he said the women might\nhave them to hang on their lodges--he was too young to carry them.\nFeeling he had made sufficient impression of his bravery to leave the\ndecision in the hands of the Chiefs, without noticing his triumph in the\napplauding multitude, his fiery eyes rolled proudly from Chief to Chief.\nHe passed with a haughty step before the Sachem, who had several times\nrather depreciated his bravery, rejoicing in this public opportunity of\nboasting a little before the Chiefs, evidently thinking it would greatly\ncontribute to his ambitious purposes and make a good impression on the\nSachem's dark-eyed daughter.\n\nAs he finished his speech the crowd commenced reciting the virtues of\ntheir deceased Chief, calling for revenge, and insulting the prisoners\nwith every epithet their wild imagination could suggest. A dissatisfied\n\"hugh\" from the old Sachem caused the first Chief again to rise, when in\nan instant all again became quiet, such were the peculiar customs of\nthese people and the great influence of their Chiefs and Rulers. In a\ncalm voice he addressed again the old Sachem:\n\n\"Thy son has spoken with a brave and cunning tongue; yet he speaks not\nto the heart of his Chief. He is ready to strike the enemy. Who carries\nmore arrows or sharper ones than Black Snake? Whose stone-headed war\nclub is deadlier? Whose tomahawk is freer on the battle-field? The Black\nSnake coils himself under the bushes and springs upon his sleeping\nenemy. When they would strike him he is gone, and their club falls where\nhe once stood. He will be a great warrior when he gathers a few more\nyears. He needs experience to lead the young braves. Let our father\nspeak from his heart, that he may hide nothing from his children, then\nwill they know how to counsel.\"\n\nThus called upon, the old Chief rose with a calm brow, and advancing\nwith great dignity, slowly scanned the faces of his dusky audience. His\neyes beamed with respectful, hopeful submission on his circle of Chiefs,\nalso upon the women judges, who make the final decision in choosing a\nnew Chief after hearing the arguments in favor of each candidate.\nGlancing towards Black Snake with a stern, unwavering countenance,\nregarding the prisoners with unaffected sympathy, and finally resting\nwith a fond look of painful solicitude upon his daughter, who was seated\non a mossy carpet beneath a large tree, within hearing distance of all\nthat was said--the wolf, the Fawn's devoted friend, coiled at her feet,\nand her neglected wampum carelessly thrown over his glossy neck--in a\nclear, low voice, as one who having once determined upon the necessity\nno hesitating fears should prevent, Great Oak addressed the now watchful\nand silent multitude.\n\n\"It is true the feet of the young brave have been far away on the\nwar-path; his tomahawk and arrows have not been idle; he crept like a\nserpent upon his victims; his war club was stained with their blood;\ntheir scalps were many by his side; he came not back empty-handed; he\nbrought prisoners to his people and gifts to his Manitou.\"\n\nThe low murmur of applause now increased to a shrill howl, which the\nechoing rocks sent flying on, mingling with the roar of the falling\nwaters. This approval being taken for their approbation, which promised\nsupport to his opinion, Great Oak, thus confirmed in his remarks,\ncontinued:\n\n\"War Eagle came not back to his people; his wigwam is lonely; did he fly\naway like a frightened bird at the sight of his enemy?\" An angry \"hugh\"\nwas uttered sympathetically. \"Did he die with his body filled with the\narrows of his enemy?\" After a short pause he answered himself:\n\n\"No, my children, the tomahawk was buried in the back of his head. Was\nhis foe behind him? Yes, my children, but not Grey Eagle and his brave\nlittle band now standing in front of you. They were also in front of War\nEagle, but he saw in them no enemies; Grey Eagle saw no enemies then.\nLook at the paint, of Grey Eagle and his braves; do you see the red and\nblack worn by a Chief on the war-path? Has the Manitou thrown a cloud\nover the eyes of your Sachem? I see only the white paint of peace and\nfriendship. When were our fathers ever known to bind a friend?\n\n\"Your Sachem has lived too long; he has lived to see the ceremonies of\nhis people laughed at by boys--the sons of his friends with friendly\ncolors bound at his feet by his own children, and the tomahawks of his\npeople ready to bury themselves in their flesh.\"\n\nThe deep silence which succeeded these words sufficiently showed the\ngreat veneration with which his people received their ideas from their\noldest Chief. All listened with breathless expectation for what was to\ncome. Black Snake and his few followers scowled revengefully, though not\ndaring to reply. The Sachem continued:\n\n\"The Great Oak can no longer overshadow and protect his people--can no\nlonger preserve the ceremonies of his fathers. His strength has gone,\nand his counsels fall to the ground like the branches of the dying tree;\nhe is needed here no more. When my children next fill a canoe for the\nManitou, place the old tree and all belonging to him in it. The tired\nbirds that have flown to him for rest he can no longer protect, and it\nis time his people burned him down out of the way, that the saplings may\nfind more room to grow. Let the arrows and tomahawk of Great Oak be\nprepared for the Manitou--he would pass from his people forever.\"\n\nWith the last words he moved slowly from the circle, and, placing\nhimself by the side of his daughter, closed his eyes, manifesting his\nresignation of all interest in their present or future state. An\nappealing wail from the multitude brought several Chiefs to their feet.\n\n\"Our father must not leave us; his voice is the voice of wisdom; when\nhis childrens' ears drink lies and their counsels are foolish the wind\nbrings truth to the ears of Great Oak; they will fade away when Great\nOak's shadows are withdrawn. Can his children feast and dance when their\nfather hides his face with shame? The Manitou has counseled the Great\nOak in his sleep; the women are in tears, and the young men are silent.\nWe have spoken, and we wait for the voice of our Sachem.\"\n\n\"Why do my children wait for the voice of a Chief, whose words fall like\nleaves in the cold blast to be trod on by boys?\"\n\n\"The words of the Great Oak, like the leaves, can bury the people. Let\nour father speak to the hearts of his children that they may know what\nto do. Has the wind whispered in the ear of our father and he tells not\nhis children their story? We listen for the voice of our Chief.\" The old\nSachem slowly opened his eyes and once more rose to his feet, standing\nerect in front of the tree whose name he bore, where still, with the\nwolf stretched at her feet, the Gentle Fawn remained seated. Without\ndeigning a glance upon the multitude, but looking in the distance, as if\ninvoking unseen aid from the air or sky, dropping their figurative\nlanguage, he spoke in a low, prophetic tone.\n\n\"Yes, there has been whispering in the ears of your Chief. He shut his\neyes on all around him, and opened them on a sunny spot, far off, where\nthe rivers know no ice and the moccasin never tracks in the snow. There\nwere more wigwams than he could count, filled with happy people. He saw\na band of braves as straight as the pines of their forest go on a long\npath to get furs and meat for their people. After moons of success they\njoyfully returned; but not to hear the voice of their fathers or ever to\nsee their faces again. The hand of the foe had spared none; their homes\nwere in ashes; their friends sent without food or presents on their long\njourney to the Manitou's hunting-ground. I saw these tired, sad hunters\ngather the scattered bones and relics of their tribe in a large circle,\nplacing plenty of furs and food, with pipes, beads and arrows in the\ncenter, and cover them high with stones and earth that wild beasts could\nnot move. And they placed the Manitou's mark on this mound that no foe\nwould dare to desecrate. Then turning their faces from their once happy\nhome they sought a new one, and people to help them revenge this deed\nand recover their land. Winding their way to the land of snow and ice\nthey saw approaching a band of warriors covered with emblems of peace,\nand, leaving their stony weapons in care of the younger braves, they\nwalked open-handed to meet the strangers. War Eagle stood foremost among\nthem. While passing the calumet [Footnote: Pipe of peace.] of friendship\ntheir ears were deafened with the war-whoop from many mouths. A tomahawk\nflew swiftlier and deadlier than an arrow and hid itself in the head of\nWar Eagle.\"\n\nThen, turning his eyes upon the multitude, he would question, and,\nlooking off in the distance, in the same prophetic voice answer:\n\n\"Did the tomahawk fly with the stranger's hand? They came\nopen-handed--left their weapons behind them. Did any of War Eagle's\nbraves protect him while his spirit was passing on its long journey? No;\nthe arms of yonder brave protected him until they were bound, to his side.\nCan War Eagle's spirit leave his friend to receive the torture of the\ncondemned and be tossed in those dark whirling waters forever? No; I hear\nhis moans mingle threateningly with the roar of the Manitou's voice. His\nspirit cannot rise to the beautiful path while his friends are prisoners\nto his people. Would you leave War Eagle forever hovering over the\nturbulent waters? Who will cut the thongs and set the spirit of War\nEagle free by freeing his friends?\"\n\nThe wild cries of the multitude were stilled by the long protracted howl\nof Black Snake as he sprung in front of the Chiefs. With a dexterous\nflourish of his tomahawk he separated the thongs, liberated the\nprisoners, and with a wave of his hand commanded silence, while,\nshouting in a loud voice, he replied to the old Sachem:\n\n\"Our father asks who bound War Eagle's friends! It was the spirits of\ndarkness that blinded his childrens' eyes to the color of Grey Eagle,\nand whispered in their ears, 'they are enemies.' It was the spirit of\ndarkness that killed War Eagle and whispered in the ears of his braves,\n'revenge his death.' It is the voice of the good Manitou that whispered\nto the Great Oak, and he has saved his children from the Manitou's wrath\nand freed the spirit of War Eagle.\" This ingenious speech showed the\ncunning of some candidates for office even in those early times, and had\nthe desired effect of winning the confidence of many of his dusky\nauditors. Long talks followed within the circle by the Chiefs, while\npreparations were being made for feast and dance around the council fire\nthat night.\n\nAye, Niagara! thou didst lull with thy awful and solemn voice as anxious\nand also as happy hearts beneath the soft furs that wrapped those dusky\nmaidens--mingling their sweet voices with thy deep bass, dancing beneath\nthe old trees on thy wild banks--as any there have been since in the\nprincely halls where the old trees once stood, beneath silks and\ndiamonds, that rival thy beautiful drops, to music that drowns for a\ntime thine own tremendous voice.\n\nThe attention of the Chiefs being directed to Grey Eagle, the youthful\nChief stepped lightly but proudly in front of them. His manner plainly\nindicated him a brave warrior and hunter. As he spoke of his people, now\nnearly exterminated, he pointed out to the council the necessity, and\nexpressed his willingness, of merging their existence in that of another\ntribe. Many looked upon him with sympathy and regard. Speaking of the\nfoes of his people, his dark eyes lighted up with contemplated\nrevenge--his mouth curled with contempt. He called them snakes with\nforked tongues; he wished to drive them from the ever green and pleasant\nvalley of his fathers; he wished to share the land with his brothers of\nthe snowy hills. He proved his skill as an orator by swaying the minds of\nhis hearers, and amidst great rejoicing stepped back to the side of his\nown braves.\n\nThe old Sachem looked at him encouragingly, while the shy Fawn,\ngathering up her no longer neglected wampum, bounded away to mingle with\nthe Indian maidens, followed by the devoted wolf, and the affectionate\neyes of her father and of many admiring braves.\n\nThe feast and dance continued long into the night; but sunrise found the\nwarriors and braves straightening their arrows and sharpening their\nstony points and newly cording with sinews their idle bows, withing the\nheads of their tomahawks, war-clubs and spears. Great and earnest\npreparations were made to follow the river in its noisy course past its\ndark whirling basin, down the stony mountain to where it mingles its\nwild dancing waves with the calm and beautiful lake, bringing only the\nfaintest murmurs of the great falling waters to their favorite hunting\ngrounds.\n\nWithin that valley, before the sun drops beneath the bright waves of\nOntario, will be decided by individual skill, unassisted by friendly\ninfluence, the right between Black Snake and his adopted brother, Grey\nEagle, to fill the place made vacant by the death of War Eagle.\n\nThis was the decision of the women. Among the Indians genealogy is\nreckoned on the mother's side alone; and, therefore, the important\nbusiness of selecting a candidate to fill the place of War Eagle, who\nleft no near relative, devolved upon the women, who decided the\nsuccessful combatant was to be the future War Chief of the tribe and\nclaim the wampum with the old Sachem's dark-eyed daughter.\n\nSympathy was pictured in most of the faces of those dark warriors, when\npassing the Great Oak's wigwam they beheld the moist eyes and tender\nleave-taking of that heroic old Chief and his motherless child, whose\nfuture depended so much on the coming contest, as following one after\nanother they disappeared in the forest.\n\n\"The Gentle Fawn will stay in the shadow of her wigwam and work on her\nwampum.\" And the old Chief, whose words were law, also disappeared,\nfollowing the narrow winding path, watched by the Fawn till the dense\nfoliage hid him from her view. Without hearing the slightest noise the\nFawn felt a hand upon her shoulder. Turning quickly, she beheld the\npleasant face of Grey Eagle. Turning his hand in formal recognition, he\naddressed her:\n\n\"The Grey Eagle's eyes are very true, and his arms are very strong;\nshall he shut his eyes when he draws his bow?\"\n\n\"May Grey Eagle's aim never be truer or his arm stronger than to-day.\"\nAnd love-light flashed from the soft eyes of the pretty Seneca maid.\n\n\"The Fawn has spoken well; Grey Eagle hears. When the wish-ton-wish\nsings his evening song Grey Eagle will be here again. The Fawn will\nwelcome him.\"\n\nThe last of the warriors disappeared, followed by the old women and\nchildren, the latter with shouts and songs, going far towards the brow\nof the mountain, where evening would still find most of them gathering\nsticks and pine cones to light the evening fires.\n\nAbout seven miles from the great cataract, towards the north, when\nfollowing the river, is seen the famous Queenston Heights, where the\nforce of waters has cut through solid rocks to a depth of about three\nhundred feet, and it is equaled in grandeur only by the cataract itself.\nThis deep chasm in winding from the falls forms the great whirlpool--the\nterror of the poor aboriginals. From the brow of the mountain the most\ngorgeous landscape bursts upon the view.\n\nA splendid picture, with the broad waters of Lake Ontario, forms a\nmagnificent background. The mountain sides are broken by deep ravines\nand huge precipices rising to a great height. The scenery is wild beyond\ndescription. On the highest elevation of this rocky cliff, on the\nwestern shore, stands the Pillar of Brock, like a giant, guarding the\nborders of the Queen's Dominion.\n\nUnder the eye, at the foot of the mountain, nestles the pretty village\nof Lewiston. The banks of the river are lower and less rugged, and here\ncommence the beautiful flats that reach to the shore of Ontario. The\nlake from this elevation is seen like a miniature ocean, spreading far\nand wide until clouds and water blend. On the left, the foaming, dashing\nriver, passing furiously through the rocky gorge, here becomes quiet,\nwinding its peaceful way through woods and meadows, its soft liquid blue\ndividing the Dominion from the United States, and gradually widening\nuntil its waters mingle with Ontario. There, standing opposite, and\nfrowning upon each other, are the forts Niagara and Massussauga, where\nsuccessively have contended French, English and Americans. Four villages\nappear within this view, on either side of the river, with their tall\nchurch spires, from which sweet, melancholy notes come floating on the\nair, tranquilizing the senses with the beautiful scene, interspersed by\nmeadows and grain fields, thickly dotted with cottages, surrounded and\nhalf hidden among orchards and lovely gardens, disclosing hundreds of\nhappy homes; while from this elevation deep repose gives softness to the\nwhole picture. The same beautiful river and lake and rock-bound mountain\nsurrounded the Indian's favorite hunting-ground; but a dense forest,\ndivided by marshy creeks, protected their game and sheltered themselves.\n\nThus secluded, hundreds of wild songsters filled the air with music,\nwhile the melancholy notes of the wish-ton-wish's evening song\ntraditionally had power to sooth their savage natures. This sweet,\npensive scenery, decked with summer's lovely green or autumn's wampum\ndyes, with morning's glittering dews or evening's fire-flies' transient\ngleams, illuminating the darkest places; the distant murmur of the\nwaterfall, the sympathetic cooing of the wild ducks, the cedar-scented\nair, all tended to thrill the Indian bosom with sensations not less\nmelancholy, not less pleasing, than the present unsurpassed and\nmagnificent view charms all beholders.\n\nSeldom so many warriors met at one time on these quiet flats, and never\ncontested champions more earnestly than did Black Snake and Grey Eagle\non that day for the two prizes in one; never were spectators more\nenthusiastic. Their triumphant whoops echoed along the river banks and\ntheir joyous applause animated the fatigued warriors, while side\ncombatants of various ages fought their mimic battles, blending the\nwhole in a scene of wild excitement and confusion. Grey Eagle was an\nexpert archer, but he had found his equal; hence the conflict was so\nlong, and had, from its even tenor, become so engrossing. One instant's\nhesitation would probably decide the contest with critics so quick to\nperceive with both eye and ear the least deviation from their standard\ncustoms. After passing successively through the exercise of war-clubs,\nspears and tomahawks, to the bow and arrow was left the decision. Again\npreparing for the contest after their own fashion, omitting no caution\nor form, the combatants brought all their warrior skill into\nrequisition. Challenge after challenge was given and taken with equal\nconfidence. The impression on the warrior spectators was exciting;\nadmiration of such unexampled dexterity gradually increased, finally\nswelling into sounds that denoted lively opposition in sentiment, when\nsuddenly, with an ominous flourish of his bow, as it fell at the feet of\nGreat Oak, Black Snake with a single bound stood in front of the Chiefs.\nThis unexpected movement produced attention and silence while he spoke:\n\n\"Black Snake sends a true arrow, but the Manitou guided Grey Eagle's.\nThe Manitou whispered truths in the ear of Great Oak and defeated the\nevil spirit. The Manitou says to War Eagle: 'I send a warrior to your\npeople to fill your place, and Grey Eagle, the chosen of the Manitou,\nwill be a great warrior.'\"\n\n[Illustration: GREY EAGLE.]\n\nAll of Black Snake's former pride and exultation seemed supplanted by\nhumility. Not the least demonstration of jealousy or revenge, was to be\ntraced in his artful face, while he continued:\n\n\"Grey Eagle will lead the young braves on the warpath. Let our father\nsend an offering to the Manitou, that he may drive the evil spirit away\nfrom Black Snake, and he will be Grey Eagle's brother and fight by his\nside. Black Snake's arrows are true, and the cries of our enemies will\nfill the forest, while every squaw can deck her lodge with scalps.\"\n\nWith an appealing glance at the circle of Chiefs, Black Snake modestly\nretired and they held their talk.\n\nAccording to their customs, captives were either adopted by the captors\nand enjoyed all of the rights and privileges of the tribe and\nconfederacy, or sentenced to death, attended by all of the horrors of\nsavage torture. If adopted, the nation knew no difference between her\nown or adopted children. In the former council by the falling waters the\nChiefs had concluded to adopt Grey Eagle and his braves; therefore the\nwomen had an undisputed right to select him as one of the candidates for\nWar Eagle's successor, which nomination was ratified by the Chiefs. The\nwomen being undecided between the rival candidates, left the final\ndecision as before mentioned, to skill or chance. It was more through\nchance than skill that Grey Eagle won, for both were well-drilled,\npowerful warriors. But he had fairly won the two prizes, and the\nconclusion the Chiefs came to was this:\n\nTheir great Manitou had evidently sent him to them for some wise\npurpose. A human sacrifice must be made, as had long been their custom,\nfor the Manitou's good gifts and to redeem Black Snake from the power of\nthe evil one, this sacrifice must be made while the moon was the\nbrightest, which was the present time. It was that the bright light\nmight more fully reveal the brilliant path of the just. As those sent as\nan offering to the Manitou would go direct to the happy home above,\nfreed from all trouble forever, when the selection was once made they\nwould become reconciled, and make themselves believe it a great favor\nbestowed and cause of rejoicing. The subject for the sacrifice was most\nfrequently selected by lot from a few the Chiefs would name; but this\ntime it was Black Snake's privilege to make the selection and\narrangements, as he was next to Grey Eagle as a warrior, and then\nthe sacrificed spirit was especially to atone to the offended Manitott\nfor Black Snake's rashness while under the influence of the evil\nspirit. At a signal for silence from Great Oak he made known these\nconclusions, and Black Snake again came forward, and, with a great\ndeal of self-depreciation, expressed his wishes as follows:\n\n\"After the calumet with the soothing kinny-kinnick shall refresh each\nChief, while its light curling clouds bear their good resolutions on\nhigh, let Great Oak and Grey Eagle be first on the backward trail;\nrising the big stony hill, still keeping the trail, without entering any\nlodge, the first one their eyes rest upon--be it one of the men, one of\nthe women, or one of the children--will be the one the Manitou wants.\nLet the Manitou make his own selection: Black Snake is not worthy.\"\n\nDuring the delivery of this speech; his swarthy countenance kindled with\na satisfied expression well calculated to conceal the dark malicious\nplans that struggled in his breast. His very nostrils appeared to dilate\nwith hidden exultation.\n\nHurriedly passing the calumet, soon a light, fragrant cloud from the\nsweet-scented kinny-kinnick rose on the air like evening incense, making\nvalid and unchangeable each resolve that tribunal of Chiefs had passed.\n\nWhile they were yet smoking, Black Snake, recovering his bow and arrow,\ncalled for some young braves who could track the deer and help carry the\nvenison back to their lodges, as a feast and dance accompanied each\ncouncil. The chiefs would smoke in the shade until the fiery eye of the\nManitou, satisfied with the purposes and promises of His simple-hearted\nchildren, would fall asleep beyond the waters of Ontario, where already\nthe last rays were beginning to color clouds and waves, till lake and\nsky seemed a bright vision of the promised land the doomed one must soon\nenter.\n\n\"The hunters will be back here before the wish-ton-wish sings, if the\nchiefs are gone the hunters will follow,\" said Black Snake, as himself\nand about twenty dusky boys, flourishing their bows and arrows, leaped\nalong the skirt of the forest and soon disappeared. They wound their way\ntowards the east, where the deer frequented a marshy tract of land,\nBlack Snake now assuming all the superiority of a chief and leader, his\nboasting, haughty manner returning, as he related what great deeds he\ncould do, and his name would make his enemies tremble. Having excited\nsufficient awe and veneration among those artless Indian boys, he\npointed to fresh tracks, and waving his hand to the north, said:\n\n\"The deer have gone to the clear water to drink; the young-brave who\nkills the first deer shall follow in the steps of Black Snake on the\nwar-path. Black Snake will go prepare for the feast and dance, and the\nevening fire for the great chiefs; the young braves follow with their\nvenison the back trail; they will not go before the old chiefs.\"\n\nThis sudden and unexpected announcement was received with a joyous shout\nby the aspiring young braves, who, thus stimulated, quickly disappeared,\nleaving Black Snake alone.\n\nA hasty glance at the sky showed him the Manitou's eye had moved but\nlittle since he left the chiefs, and had some ways yet to travel before\ndisappearing for the night, and his satisfied look said, \"'Tis well,\"\nfor Black Snake had much to do and much to bring about before the fiery\neye would again throw his searching rays upon this wild and wayward\nchild of the forest.\n\nA fierce and fixed expression settled on his swarthy features,\ncontradicting all that assumed humility while in the presence of the\nchiefs.\n\nFollowing a direct path to the south-west, with his fast Indian lope,\ncrossing the creeks on the well-known beaver bridges, nothing impeded\nhis speed, and in an incredibly short time he found himself on the brow\nof the great stony hill, where his path soon struck the river trail,\nleaving the council of chiefs many miles behind him to the north. He\ngave a peculiar whoop, composed, of a quick succession of notes\nterminating in a prolonged sound, which made the forest ring till it\ndied away in the distance, silencing terrified bird and squirrel and\nmaking the stillness that followed doubly still. Speeding on toward the\nlodge, as he neared the great water-fall, he again repeated the shrill\ncall; this time faint answers reached him from different directions.\n\nThen a sharp, solitary note, repeated at short intervals, and answered,\nin the same, manner, and with the exclamation \"Hugh!\" in a satisfied\ntone, the tired warrior seated himself for the first time since morning\nat the root of a large tree, holding his head in his dark sinewy hands,\nas if that was more weary even than his' over-exercised limbs. Soon\nthere appeared several Indian boys and old women from different sides of\nthe trail. He held a hasty confidential talk with them. That he did not\ntruthfully explain anything, in fact, misrepresented the whole, was only\ntoo natural for Black Snake. But in his own way he revealed the final\ndecision, making a double sacrifice of the human offering--both body and\nsoul; he told them their spirits would be given to the evil one and sent\nto the turbulent waters, there to be whirled forever in sight of the\nbright path they never could follow.\n\nThis story, as calculated, struck terror to the hearts of his\nawe-stricken hearers, and had the desired effect. Instantly the dense\nfoliage hid their frightened faces as they fled from the river trail,\nand only the mimic cry of bird or animal known as a warning of danger to\nall within hearing, the leaping or plunging through the underbrush was\nall the eye or ear could detect after Black Snake's communication, which\nsent the berry pickers and cone gatherers back with the fleetness of the\ndeer to hide themselves in their lodges. Black Snake was again following\nwith his greatest speed the river trail, not pausing till near the Great\nOak's lodge, where, assuming the position and actions of the reptile\nwhose name he bore, he crawled to the side of the wigwam, where,\nunobserved, he watched for a few moments its solitary occupant. Seated\non a robe of the soft furs of the beaver, weaving the plaits on her how\nhighly prized wampum, while the prolonged gaze, interrupted with\nrestless flashing from the dark eyes of the Fawn, bespoke the anxiety,\nwith which she had waited the result of that long, long day, which would\nalso decide her fate. Wearied with picturing the future in its brilliant\nlights and dark shades, as Grey Eagle and Black Snake alternately\nfigured in her thoughts, and wearied with waiting for the song of the\nevening birds, she is suddenly startled from her meditation as a shadow\nfalls across the lodge, and Black Snake stands before her.\n\nSpringing to her feet and spasmodically grasping the wampum, fearing\nBlack Snake had been victorious and had come for his reward, was the\nimpulse of the moment; but the subdued and brotherly manner assumed by\nBlack Snake reassured as he gently addressed her.\n\n\"The Grey Eagle is a great chief, and Black Snake is his brother. Grey\nEagle looks as he rises on the stony-hill for his wampum, that he may\nsit in the circle, of chiefs. Shall the Swaying Reed meet Grey Eagle\nwith her wampum? Is the Fawn too timid to go? Black Snake will stay with\nthe Fawn and let Swaying Reed fly on the trail towards the stony hill.\"\n\n\"No! No!\" exclaimed the Fawn. \"The Swaying Reed loves Black Snake; her\nfeet would be slow on the trail to carry the wampum to Grey Eagle. The\nFawn will go to meet her father and the tall chief, while Black Snake\nsings in the ear of Swaying Reed, who is never tired of the voice she\nloves so much.\"\n\n\"The Fawn has spoken well; but Grey Eagle must take the wampum from the\none his eyes rest first upon as he rises on the stony hill. The Fawn saw\nthe Indian women follow the trail towards the great flats to gather\nberries and pine cones; she must shame the moose in her flight, and hide\nunder the bushes, if she would see Great Oak, and Grey Eagle first as\nthey mount the hill. If the Fawn would fill the pipe and kindle the fire\nfor Grey Eagle in his own wigwam, let him not know she is near until she\nstands before him. I have said.\"\n\n\"The Fawn's ears have been open; her feet will not be slow; she will\nfollow the hidden path, until she reaches the great rocks of the hill.\nThe Fawn will do as her brother tells her. The Swaying Reed is waiting\nfor Black Snake.\"\n\nAnd ere the day songsters had finished their sweet melody, or the\nwish-ton-wish [Footnote: Whippoorwill.] had yet commenced its evening\nsong, the half frightened Indian maid had hid herself near the summit of\nthe hill, under foliage so dense, she felt not the fast falling dew, as\nbreathless she waited the coming steps. From her safe hiding place she\nsaw the white plume of Grey Eagle waving over his happy, excited face,\nas with his light elastic step he appeared first; erect and tall like\nthe cedars around him. Next came her father whose wrinkled countenance,\nsoftened with paternal care and watchfulness, had long lost the\nfierceness and native fire of his youth, followed closely by his chiefs.\nHe passed slowly along the trail, hardly daring to raise his eyes, it\nbeing the death warrant to whomsoever they should fall upon. Suddenly\nthe bushes parted and the Fawn bounded into her father's arms. To\naccurately describe the agony of this scene would be impossible;\nconsternation for a moment held them spell-bound; horror was pictured in\nfaces so long trained to conceal the workings of the mind, and for the\nfirst time the Fawn remained uncaressed in her father's arms. Astonished\nand grieved she turned to Grey Eagle; the light had fled from his face,\nand his soul apparently; he seemed petrified and lifeless as the rock he\nstood upon. Even the poor wolf, missing his usual attention, or from\nsome inexplicable cause, commenced to howl pitifully as he leaped from\none to another.\n\nThe spell was broken by a young chief not old enough yet to feel the\nresponsibility of the customs of his fathers, from which life nor death\nwould tempt older chief to deviate, hopefully exclaiming:\n\n\"It was the wolf the Sagamore's eyes fell upon first; it was the wolf\nthe Manitou sent. He wants him to put into the far off hunting ground.\"\n\nFor an instant, only an instant, hope flitted across the face of the\ndoting, and heart broken lover. With the stoicism so natural to these\npeople, they attempted to hide their grief, but too plainly their ill\nconcealed tears betrayed, while they unlocked the almost paralyzed\ntongue.\n\n\"Did my daughter find her lodge too warm, that she ventured so far away\nin the dew? Were her ears closed when her father bid her stay in the\nshadow of her lodge?\"\n\n\"The Fawn was sent by Black Snake to meet her father,\" she replied.\n\"Would Grey Eagle have the Fawn wait for the song of the wish-ton-wish,\nwhile the Black Snake sung in her ears; and the Swaying Reed carried her\nwampum to the chief with the white plume? The Swaying Reed loves Black\nSnake; and Black Snake sent the Fawn with her wampum, that the eyes of\nher father and the young chief might fall on her first as they rose the\ngreat hill.\"\n\nAmazement and stupefaction sat for a moment on the features of the\nIndians during the delivery of this speech. Their swarthy countenances\nkindled with a fierce expression that told so well the dark thoughts\nthat struggled in their hearts at the perfidy of Black Snake who had\nexercised his vengeance in so unmerciful a manner. The threatening\ntomahawks that filled the air at this convincing proof of his malicious\ndesigns, would have terrified any other than that sly, cunning chief. As\nvillains of the present day so often protect themselves with the strong\narm of the law intended for their suppression, so Black Snake knowing so\nwell the customs of his people, used their own well meant laws to carry\nout his sinister plans, and protect himself in so doing. Again amidst\nthe tumult the young chief insisted:\n\n\"It was the wolf the chief saw first; 'twas the wolf the Manitou\nwanted.\"\n\nSo many endorsed the young chief that confusion for the time prevented\nGreat Oak from speaking, which might have been mistaken for yielding;\nwhen that crafty chief springing from among the ever-green bushes,\nconfronted the chiefs, and in a loud voice of ferocious exultation and\nof triumph, tauntingly demanded:\n\n\"What says the Sagamore? Does he tell the young warriors a lie? The wolf\nwas in the arms of Black Snake when the Fawn was in the arms of her\nfather.\"\n\nTurning with an annihilating look upon the base Indian, whose last\nsentence conveyed an unpardonable taunt to any Indian chief, the\nSagamore, with the firmness of the rocks around him and in clear\ndistinct words replied:\n\n\"Dare pass judgement upon the deeds of a sachem who hath sat in council\nwith thy father's father? Look to thyself Black Snake, the hissing\nspirits in the boiling waters below are calling for thee. I have said.\"\n\nBestowing upon his daughter a long look of thwarted love and final\nresignation, in words at once unyieldingly firm, but full of, the\nIndians' bright hopes and promises for the future, he pronounced her\ndoom, which none dared question.\n\n\"My child, the Manitou hath need of thee; thou must soon travel the\nbright path and join thy mother beyond the clouds. The big moon shows\nthe path brightest now; and that thou mayst not stumble or lose thy way,\ngo prepare thyself at once as the child of thy father should, to\njoyfully carry the gifts most precious to the Great Manitou for the\nwelfare of thy people. I have said.\"\n\nThe real or pretended indifference to pleasure or pain, one of the\ngreat characteristics of the American Indian, even to the joyful manner\nthey would yield, without resistance and evidently without sufficient\ncause, to torture and death, was owing greatly to the sudden and\nunalterable decisions of their chiefs, governed by customs formed from\ntheir views of a future state, over-ruling all earthly ambitions of\nthese untutored people. Such terrible dooms! The sentence and execution\nso quickly following each other, and apparently falling upon the poor\nvictim at once, the shock paralyzing their faculties, while pride\nconcealing their softer feelings, transforms them so suddenly into\nwhat appears beings indifferent and insensible to the suffering and\ndistress of death and separation or to the expectation of enjoyment\nand happiness here on earth to themselves or others.\n\nThus comprehending her inevitable situation and feeling it an honor to\nbe the selected of the Manitou to guide the birchen-bark with precious\ngifts over the precipice to the happy forest in eternity, where she\nwould meet her long remembered mother, the doomed maiden replied, with\ntearful smile and subdued voice, \"I go my father,\" and immediately\ndisappeared among the wild vines and bushes that border the banks of\nNiagara, followed closely by her faithful wolf.\n\nThe setting sun that day shed its last rays and warmth upon a busy and\nsorrowful scene, around thy roaring cataract, Oh, cruel unrelenting fall\nof waters softly painting with mellow light the trees, rocks and thy\nwild children, unmindful alike, of the sad though customary,\npreparations for the sacrifice hurriedly proceeding: the women decking\nwith shells and flowers the fairest maiden in their tribe, so soon to\npass from them forever; the chiefs wrapped in the pride of Indian\nendurance hide from each other their feelings no tear betrays, or\nthoughts even mar the serenity of their countenances, which indicated\nonly submission to fate while the necessary ceremonies were being\nprovided for; and they filled the flower decked bark, moored in the\nlittle eddy above the rapids, with highly valuable contributions; and\nlighted the great pine-fires for the feast and dance, so well furnished\nand prepared by Black Snake, while daylight faded into night, heralded\nby invisible singers from the surrounding trees, pouring forth their\nsleepy monotonous songs, varying only at times in a higher and wilder\nkey, then dying away in the endless roar of the turbulent waters around\nthem.\n\nThe full moon ascending majestically above the horizon, with its pale,\nwavering light softened into beauty the rough rocks and banks, revealing\nthe brilliant and beautiful path that one by one, the wisest and best of\ntheir tribe, had followed. Showering its light upon the narrow river\npath, already filled with the sad hearted maidens leading the submissive\nFawn to the waiting boat in the quiet little bay; they hushed the noisy\nfeast with their low sweet voices as they sung her virtues, followed by\na subdued and curious crowd of every age and sex. About stepping from\nthe rock to her boat, the Fawn turned to her sire, but e'er she spoke\nthe sachem answered her appealing look.\n\n\"I have no word or gift to send by thee my child. Thou art my all. The\nGreat Oak will soon fall, but in falling must crush his enemies. Thy\nfather will follow thee on the beautiful trail when the Manitou next\nlights the way,\" turning, as he finished, his back towards the river,\nwhile the Fawn placed herself with mechanical helplessness in the boat.\nInstantly the unnoticed, but faithful wolf, sprung after her. Arms were\nstretched to pull him out, but the sachem's voice caused them to fall by\nthe sides of the officious forms to which they belonged.\n\n\"The Manitou calls whom he hath use for. If he sent my child through the\nartfulness of that young chief to the brow of the big hill, he hath also\ncalled the wolf, because he hath need of him; let him go. I have said.\"\n\nThe little bark, held firmly by strong ropes twisted from the inside\nbark of the elm, and fastened to both ends of the boat and to the side\nnext to the shore, the other ends of the rope held by the weeping\nmaidens who followed the river path, slowly towing the little bark to a\npoint near the brink of the cataract, on the east border of the river,\nwhere a platform of flat rocks whose uneven portions appear here and\nthere above the surface of the water, form a solid foundation to its\nunsandy shore. There tossing the ropes from them, the light canoe drawn\nby the powerful current would dance only a moment on the bounding waves,\nere it launched into the misty region surrounding the mystical path,\nwhere transition is hid from mortal eye. Slowly drawn by the reluctant\ngirls, the Fawn commenced her death song, a simple address to the\nManitou, while her thoughts evidently clung to her earthly friends.\n\n  \"Thou hath called. Great Manitou, from thy forest on high,\n  I come, I'll follow thy wampum-dyed path through the sky;\n  Thy gifts hath been poured on the chieftains and braves,\n  They send Thee their child on the dark boiling waves;\n  Soon in the Beautiful Path she will be,\n  Loaded with tears so precious for Thee;\n  The grief of my sire, the grief of my brave,\n  Oh! Precious the load on this terrible wave;\n  But cheered by my chief, as the last leap draws nigh,\n  Can I look back and see him from thy Path in the sky?\n  One look, O Manitou! 'ere my face rams\n  From my father and brave, where my heart still yearns;\n  That look; and their tears my offering shall be,\n  Oh precious the load I'll carry to Thee,\n  As my spirit will rise in the mist o'er the wave,\n  While my body floats down to its watery grave.\"\n\nSuddenly her song was interrupted by another wail, commencing low and\ngradually rising, till its clear notes seemed to fill the surrounding\nwoods, mingling with the shrieks of the wind as it wound round the\nprominent rocks they were slowly approaching. There on the very rock\nwhere the Fawn's little bark would dart away from the open hands of the\nsad lamenting maidens, stood unobserved by all but his own braves, the\ntall figure of Grey Eagle, dimly seen through the suddenly cloudy\nmoonlight, erect against the dark back ground of the forest, singing in\nan exulting voice and manner, words that betrayed his intentions, which\nnone would dare prevent, or set at naught if accepted by the Manitou,--a\nfree spontaneous gift of life on his part, as shown in the words that\nfloated on the night air to the ears of his hearers.\n\n   \"Thou lift'st not thy hand, which only can save\n   The dark-eyed maid from thy terrible wave;\n   She is tender and timid, Oh! Great Manitou!\n   In the arms of her brave to Thee she must go,\n   In the arms of her brave take the terrible flight,\n   Together their spirits shall, rise into light.\"\n\nAs the ropes fell, from the trembling hands of the towing maidens, the\nmoon in mercy seemed to hide her face beneath a cloud, veiling in\ndarkness the fearful tragedy, as the Fawn floated off on the pitiless\nwave. A splash; a struggle; a wild howl, filled the air, echoing from\nrock to rock and from shore to shore. One ray of light from between the\nclouds revealed the little boat, as poised an instant in the misty vapor\nover the boiling surge, and dark forms gathered on the rocks from whence\nthe bark had just departed; while shout and strife and angry threats\ngrew loud among the warlike group madly struggling on that brink of\neternity. Great Oak alone could quell the tumult. Followed by some\nsympathizing chiefs he wound his way among the promiscuous crowd already\ngathered. On the shore near the brink of the falling waters, on the\nstony tables extending far out into the water, stood Grey Eagle's\nwarriors, firm as the rocks beneath them. In the center of this group,\nalmost a prisoner of his own braves, was the speechless Grey Eagle; at\nhis feet crouched the powerful wolf over the prostrate form of the\ninsensible Fawn, alternately howling and licking her face. At the\nappearance of the old chief clamor ceased, and with difficulty the\nastonished father was made to understand the cause of the excitement.\n\nAt the moment of the Indian girls freeing the boat, the natural instinct\nof the wolf apprised him of her danger; instantly springing to his loved\nmistress, fastening his powerful jaws in her deer skin dress, the\nfaithful beast tumbled into the water, struggling with fear and more\nthan common strength to the rock where stood the almost petrified Grey\nEagle, who then recognized the omnipotent power that moved to save.\nBeing surrounded by his own braves who quickly and thoughtfully passed\nthem to the shore, re-commenced the pow-wow in which Black Snake's voice\nwas heard above all the others, calling on the Manitou to let his wrath\nfall on the strangers for robbing him of his gifts, and not on the open\nhands of his own people, and calling for help to toss them all into the\nboiling waters, to avert the wrath of the Manitou from themselves, he\ntried to suit his actions to his words. His voice was last heard on the\nbrink of the precipice, as if in a deadly contest.\n\nWhen the sachem and the other chiefs agreed the Manitou had taken what\nhe wanted, and given the rest back to his sorrowful children, Black\nSnake was not there. When the pine cones were piled high on the big\nfire, and Grey Eagle was proclaimed War-Chief, and the wolf as a totem\nthereafter to the mingle tribes of Great Oak's and Grey Eagle's people,\nand was marked indelibly on each warrior, Black Snake was not there.\nWhen the feast and dance commenced and the now animated Fawn, in the\npresence of all the chiefs, gave her wampum to Grey Eagle, and the night\nwore away with wild festivities, as chief after chief silently\ndisappeared, as they had appeared, in the dark winding paths over the\nhills and around marshes to their distant homes; and peace and happiness\nagain spread around old Niagara, while the sassafras' fragrant smoke\nfrom their cheerful wigwams mingling with the cataract's cloudy mist,\nrose like incense to their Manitou, Black Snake still was not there; and\nonly for the Swaying Reed wandering up and down the vine tangled banks,\never looking among the rocks, and listening for a well remembered step,\nor some mimic note of the departed brave, he would have passed from\ntheir memories as he had from the sight of the noble and generous wolf\ntribe created and loved of the Great Manitou of Niagara.","title":"Birch Bark Legends of Niagara","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":10988}